


The Dark Man

by rhodrymavelyne



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:27:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26378035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhodrymavelyne/pseuds/rhodrymavelyne
Summary: Hannibal visits Will in his bedroom, becoming the stag man, reminding Will of the childhood fears his father engendered in him of the dark man waiting to take him away.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Kudos: 11





	The Dark Man

**Author's Note:**

> A little of Will’s background, how superstitious his father was, and why Will finds associating his visualization process with any kind of magic is presumed in this particular story. This plays with Bryan Fuller and Mads Mikkelsen’s interpretation of the Hannibal in their series being like Lucifer. It also plays with the themes I’ve introduced in other stories, such as Catching His Scent. This could take place any time after Shiizakan. I don’t own Hannibal, but for months it has owned me, and I appreciate the distraction during the stress of lock-down. (wry grin)

The creature, the man-stag was there, sitting on the edge of my bed.

“No.” I gaze at the ebon perfection of its mysterious face, the mythical truth Hannibal Lecter had become. “Did I summon you?”

“The devil has always been around to tempt man.” He spoke with Hannibal’s voice, low, intimate. “And you, Will have become my temptation, the witch luring the devil to him with his enchantments in a biblical sense.”

I closed my eyes, felt my own sour denial of the word. I shouldn’t fear the word ‘witch’, let it echo in my memories with the fearful rants of my father. Attempts to reclaim the word by modern practitioners had failed to banish that echo or my denial of it. I was not a witch. I had never been a witch. The things I saw, what I visualized were simply the results of an active imagination and nothing more. Evidence, reality was always there to back my conclusions. 

I was no witch. I didn’t actually move back in time, summon ghosts, or Hannibal in the wendigo form. I didn’t have powers or magic. Those notions belonged to the same family of superstitions my father had believed in; if a black cat crossed you path, it was bad luck, as was shattering a mirror, or covering your mouth when you yawned, lest a ghost slipped inside your body, ejecting your soul. 

Above all there was the the admonishment that I, Will had to be careful, very careful not to see things in the shadows or the dark man would take me. 

“He’ll catch your scent, Will.” My father had gripped my shoulders, gazing at me with fearful blue eyes. “He’ll sniff out your sin, your strangeness, and he’ll take you away. Don’t let the dark man in. Close your eyes and say a prayer if you’re tempted.”

I’d stopped praying years ago. I didn’t believe in prayer or my father’s warnings. I didn’t believe in the dark man, even if he had superimposed himself over Hannibal’s face.  


Now he was running his hand down my naked thing and I loved the cool touch of his fingers against my skin.

“Will.” The stag man was gone. It was simply Hannibal again, wearing his human face, lined with concern. “Don’t go inside. Stay with me.”

They were the exact same words he’d said after I killed Randall Tier. Don’t go inside. Stay with me. 

Don’t say a prayer. Don’t back away. See me. 

I opened my eyes and looked at him. I saw the wendigo with branching antlers, dark and rearing over, ready to claim me. I saw Hannibal, touching my lips, running a gentle finger over my cheek, as if he couldn’t quite believe I was real.

“I’m here.” I allowed my mouth to relax into a smile, to kiss his fingers. “I see you.”

**Author's Note:**

> The lines “Don’t go inside. Stay with me” are from Naka-Choko.


End file.
